


Hung Empty

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha Gladiolus Amicitia, Alpha Ignis Scientia, Alpha Noctis Lucis Caelum, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Consent Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Or Is he?, There may be hints of OT4 but this is mostly Promptis focused, Unpresented Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: At twenty years old, Prompto's still never presented an endotype. On the road, that's mostly not a problem, even if occasionally he feels a little left out of the loop of his three alpha friends.But in between constant travel and daemon battles, there's not really time for Prompto to dwell on his lack of type—after all, it's not likely his body will finally take this moment to figure itself out, right?





	1. Glad to be Loved but Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've always enjoyed the whole "going into heat during battle" trope as well as the idea of characters that haven't yet presented as a specific type even late into life, and how the latter especially might affect someone with the kind of background of self-esteem issues that Prompto has. 
> 
> I'm still getting used to these characters so I apologize if anything seems off in their interactions with one another, I hope anything weird gets better as this fic goes on. This chapter is mostly setting the stage so I apologize if it's a little too expository and boring. We'll get to the fun stuff next time!
> 
> Also, just a heads-up warning that in future chapters we'll be dealing with messier issues of heats and the ambiguities of endotype presentation and not everything will be clear cut and neatly dealt with! I'll probably be adding a couple more tags onto this fic as we move on, is basically what I'm saying.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

For as long as Prompto could remember, he’d been nothing.

Well, not—not _totally_ nothing. After all, he’d gotten pretty good with a gun. He could be useful in battle. He could make his party laugh if anyone felt in need of cheering up, and though it had little practical use aside from the occasional paid commission, he was no slouch with a camera.

In _that_ sense, he was definitely something.

Still didn’t stop the fact that as far as he knew, he didn’t have an endotype.

Honestly, as much as Prompto had heard people wish they didn’t have to deal with all the baggage that came with presenting, his own lack of type had really been more a burden growing up than a blessing. Watching all the other kids coming into their own like that hadn’t done much for his already damaged self esteem, and he’d spent most of his time wishing nature would just hurry up and roll the dice for him already.

Hell, Prompto’d even kept a tally of the days back then. Checking them off, hoping every morning that this day would be the one, the day where he’d finally figure out what he was. He’d become hyper-vigilant of every change in his body, cataloguing them over the course of days and then comparing the data together, only to be sorely disappointed—was that even been the right word?—to discover nothing new.

Losing weight had been a boon to his self-esteem but hadn’t triggered his presentation the way he’d hoped. As he hung out more and more with Noctis—himself already presented a full year before Prompto had finally got up the nerve to talk to him—he’d found himself hoping maybe his new friends’ alpha genes could somehow rub off on him and help his body figure itself out, but the moment had never come.

He hadn’t ever bulked up and hulked out like an alpha would, but neither had he filled in and blossomed out in curves like an omega. He’d figured, eventually, that he was just some flavor of beta, though even his beta classmates had scents and instincts that went completely over his head. But telling everyone he was one, even when a whiff and a close eye could easily prove he wasn’t, at least defused questions from everyone but the most nosy. And whenever he got someone who seriously needed to learn when to _not_ pry into someone else’s business, he pretended to get a text from Noct and excused himself on “Best Friend of the Crown Prince Business” which, as everyone knew, was super important.

By the time Prompto had come of age he’d mostly given up. He’d been far too embarrassed to go to a doctor and honestly couldn’t have afforded a potential visit anyway, especially when he suspected he knew what they’d say. Confirmation that he was an anomaly, that any normal kid’s body would’ve figured itself out by now. At that point, it’d be better to just roll with it and act like it didn’t bug him.

“You really think I’d wanna deal with all that crap like heats and ruts and scents and all that?” He remembered scoffing once, when Noct had brought it up after school. “Please, dude, I’ve got a hard enough time focusing on classes and work _without_ all that stuff getting in my way.”

And at least Noctis hadn’t seem to care one way or another—even when Prompto’s lack of type had become a point of contention during Crownsguard training. There he’d learned his blank-slate was more than just a source of teasing and insecurity, and in some peoples’ eyes actually struck a black mark across his abilities. He’d put up with more than his fair share of “playful” hazing at the hands of the mostly-alpha trainees, but the looks on their faces when he’d schooled them in running and marksmanship _almost_ made up for the stings they’d left on his self-esteem.

Thankfully, on the road the nature of his type seemed to matter less. Prompto interacted with far fewer people on the daily, and most strangers that he met were too preoccupied with their own problems to care about the endotype of some random guy. He got the occasional confused glance from a shop clerk at his lack of proper scent and the occasional query he countered with the beta lie, but people mostly kept to themselves and left him to go on his way.

However, there were still moments were he felt painfully conscious of his deficiency—in no part thanks to the fact that he was traveling with three full-grown alphas.

Prompto had enough of a passing familiarity with endotype traits to get by. He understood it in the same way he’d understood high school science—grasping the fundamentals enough to pass a test or two before they fell out of his brain. So though he lacked the instinct to properly comprehend what was going on most of the time, he could at least observe the objective differences in the ways his friends interacted with each other, that seemed to extend beyond even boundlessroyal duty into something deeper.

Even now, sitting in the car with the wind blowing through his hair, Prompto could see hints of it. Any articles he’d read on the subject in the past—when he’d buried himself in frustration trying to figure out what was going on with him—hardly touched on alpha-alpha relationships apart from the negative. _Competitive instincts drive alphas to the top but largely disable them from establishing beneficial relations with members of their own type,_ he remembered reading, but little of _that_ rang true now as he carefully twisting around in his sleep, eyes sweeping from the backseat—where Gladio had his arm swung over the headrest that Noctis wasn’t even using, tipped to the side and snoozing against the windowsill as he was—over to Ignis, who’s measured glances flipped from the road, to the rearview mirror, and even over in Prompto’s direction when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Prompto didn’t know whether he’d lucked out in finding the only group of alphas not willing to lunge at each other’s throats or merely stumbled upon information grossly out of date, but either way he’d come to understand just how instinct drove the other three along. He felt whatever protective instinct those articles had insisted remained only for family and bond-mates radiate from his friends at all times. They fed into one another, watched the others backs, developed a camaraderie deeper than blood and scent. If one sensed something the other two would quickly follow and turn attention to everything from a sneaky couerl ambush to a vial of potion accidentally knocked off the table mid-conjuring.

Ignis’ eyes flashed to check the rearview mirror again, and Prompto turned away and folded his arms against the windowsill, looking at the way the roadside blurred with their speed. Something clenched in his stomach and he closed his eyes, the smell of exhaust suddenly stinging and unpleasant in his nose.

He’d been playing catchup with Ignis and Gladio and Noctis ever since he’d met them, well-aware that the three had known each other longer than Prompto had known any of them. Time, status, type—all felt like big walls in his mind whenever he felt foolish enough to let it wander on some of these longer drives, to let it lead him down the path to teenaged Prompto sitting in the bathroom crying and hoping for something, _something_ to change.

He thought of Gladio’s sheer physical strength, Noctic’s ferocity, Ignis’ cool head and decisive thinking. His mind dozed, conjures up an image of himself rippling with power and drive and ability, a key part of the pack finally slotted into place. He smiled to himself even as something painful drove up into his chest.

Fingers brush up against his bare shoulder, starting him out of his thoughts. Ignis kept his eyes on the road, but his hand stays resting against Prompto as he turned and glanced back at the alpha.

“You’re unusually quiet. Is everything all right?”

For a moment Prompto considered actually opening up and telling Ignis what was really up, but the smooth touch of leather gloves against his skin was sending a weird feeling tingling into his stomach, and instead he swallowed and managed to keep his voice and smile steady.

“Oh, yeah. No worries here.”

Prompto stayed facing forward now, hands in his lap as he stared at the road ahead clipping underneath the hood of the car.

Ignis was polite enough to check in with him, even when nothing was cause for alarm—as were Noctis and Gladio, affording him kindness though he wasn’t really one of them. Not many would tolerate someone blank and un-presented and devoid of the instinct that gave people a proper place, and as Prompto tipped his head back he banished the stupid fantasy to the corner of his mind where the hundred other selfish ideas sat festering and lonely. 

Still, as he slipped into a light doze—tired of watching the white road markers endlessly flit away—Prompto found himself wishing he could smell more than the distant tinge of dust and gas on the wind.

* * *

They made camp in a nice clearing bordered on one side by trees and the other by a small meadow full of bright yellow flowers that rolled and floated in the breeze. Prompto forced down the immediate urge to run off and take a couple of pictures, wanting to make himself useful setting up the tent.

Noctis too circled around the car to help carry supplies from the trunk, unusually active thanks to the cat-nap. Prompto bumped hips with them, the both of them crowded out by Gladio who eyed them with a smirk as he hefted twin bags of weighty tarp over his shoulders.

“Why don’t you two let me take care of this?” He asked even as Prompto grabbed for one of the bags near the back of the trunk, hoisting it into his arms with relative ease. Noctis himself rolled his eyes and snatched a larger bag, the tentpoles rattling around inside as he let it swing by the pull cord.

“It’ll be faster if we help out, you know,” the prince retorted, turning away from Prompto as Gladio made a show of shrugging the rolls of canvas further up against his shoulders.

“You think so?” Gladio looked the prince up and down, smirk wider but still playful. “ _Preeetty_ sure I could carry all this plus whatever you two got there. Hell, lets even throw you both on top. Not even gonna break a sweat.”

“Oh really?” Noctis’ tone was challengingbut tinged with amusement, and Prompto relaxed at the easy banter until the prince turned back around to him.

“Prom, why don’t you let me take those?”

“Huh? No, I can carry them!” He insisted as he scrabbled with the oblong bag in his hands, but Noctis had already cradled the tentpoles against the crook of his elbow and yanked it down and out of Prompto’s grasp.

The prince puffed as he shifted the new load, ignoring Prompto’s complaints as he turned to face Gladio with a challenging smirk. 

“You know, there’s still another bag of stakes,” the shield countered, and before Prompto could offer his help Noctis had already snatched the remaining supplies with a _tsk_.

“Easy.”

“Hey, princess’s got some bite. Now lets see if you can get halfway through setup without dozing off.”

Prompto, as usual picked up on things a moment too late, as he watched the pair trudge off to the large swath of flat ground, already bantering over where the best place to pitch the tent lay.

“Oh. Okay. You guy are doing that thing.” Prompto spoke to himself more than the two of them as he grabbed his personal bag and shut the trunk, feeling like he’d again intruded on some invisible boundary drawn between his friends. Something uncomfortable wound in his stomach as he shuffled towards the clearing, watching as the two alphas threw down their loads with loud, combative grunts.

Ignis had similarly busied himself, though with far less posturing. He stood nearby, carefully unpacking their other amenities with his back turned to the other alphas—absorbed in his task, though Prompto knew he was always aware of what went on around him. Noctis liked to joke he had eyes on the back of his head, and well—after —Prompto believed it.

The little smile that fluttered across his face at the memory faded as he fiddled with the straps of his bag, still unsure what to do with himself. Everyone seemed sealed off in little roles, pockets of activity cut off from Prompto as he rubbed his wrist and wondered what he should do.

“You guys need any help?” He broached Gladio and Noctis first, clasping his hands behind his back as he sauntered to a stop besides where they’d both apparently agreed to set up the tent. Noctis looked up from where he’d started staking the tarp to the ground and shook his head.

“Nah, Prom, I think I got it—though you might need to help Gladio sort out those poles…” He raised his voice in the direction of his shield, who Prompto could see was busy with untangling the linked supports from each other even. He moved to help, but Gladio merely snorted and waved him off. 

“Less talking, more staking, princess. Fuck it up, and this thing’s gonna fly away in the night—with you inside.”

“Haha, well—“ Prompto held up his hands, backing off from the two alphas, “you guys need anything, just gimme a call!” He quickly excused himself, Noct’s affronted retort sounding in his ears.

He returned his hands to their tucked position behind his back as he strolled over to the comparatively quieter corner of the camp where Ignis had begun to unpack their food supplies. The sun still hadn’t fully started to set just yet, so whatever he was prepping to cook dinner, it was probably something that took awhile.

Perfect.Plenty he could help out with.

“Iggy? Hey, need anything?” Prompto eyed everything from the garulessa flanksteak wrapped up in plastic to the small satchel bulking with the vegetables foraged from the day before. He hoped Ignis would hand him the knife or send him off to boil water or something, but instead the alpha gentled him away with a gloved hand on his forearm.

“I appreciate the offer, but I should be able to hand things on my own. A simple stew won’t require too many extra hands.” Ignis began to unwrap the steak and laid it out on the cutting board. “Perhaps take a moment to stretch your legs? Today’s drive was fairly taxing.”

True, Prompto’s legs and back had cramped a bit when he’d hopped out of the car, but he’d figured he could work it out by helping the others—if only they needed his help.

“Uh, all right. Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me!” He backed away, briefly glancing from Ignis to the other two alphas, worrying his lip as he watched them all so embroiledin their tasks.

Not knowing what else to do, Prompto decided to turn to his photography.

He slid his bag down on the ground near where the skeleton of the tent was beginning to take shape amidst the playful barbs volleyed between Gladio and Noctis. He quickly fished his camera out of the pack and skirted around camp towards the edge of the meadow, tall grass brushing up against his calves as he sought a good place to snap a couple pictures. The flora ruffled around him in the rolling breeze, sending his hair aflutter in kind.

He waded further into the meadow, towards a patch of flowers that bloomed out of the golden grasses in bright spots of color. He switched on the camera as he stopped in front of a particularly stunning specimen, leaning over for a closer look.

Red blossomed in streaks from the flower’s center, radiating out over the mellow gold of the petals only to vanish in flecks near the papery edges. A whorl of inky blue stamen watched him like an eye through his camera’s viewfinder as he sunk to one knee to get on the flower’s level, weight disturbing some of the other flora hemming him in.

He sniffled as pollen tickled his nose and pulled his camera away to rub the back of his hand over his face. He blinked rapidly, sinuses suddenly tight as the powdery yellow settled thanks to a temporary stall in the breeze. Sunlight caught on the offending particles as they fluttered back to the ground. Prompto lowered himself more carefully this time as to not disturb more of the flowers, settling on both knees as he breathed the last of the pollen from his nose. Weird. They’d been trekking around all kinds of terrain for _months_ now and he’d never reacted like this to any type of flower.

He raised the camera once more, gradually leaning forward and back as he pursued the perfect angle. The viewfinder blurred for a moment as it sought focus in the dimming sunlight until the crisp picture of the flower finally crystalized to Prompto’s delight. He smiled to himself and clicked the button, taking a couple in sequence as clouds drifting above, changing the shadows against the golden grass.

The sudden crunch of footsteps behind him drew Prompto’s attention away from his pictures, heart leaping at the surprise, then again when he saw it was Noctis slipping through the meadow with far less care than Prompto had exercised, grass bowed out of his way like it knew he was royalty.

“You done trying to show Gladio up?” He teased as Noctis’ came to crouch besides him. The prince scowled, lightly nudging Prompto with an elbow.

“That wasn’t…just, you know how it is with—“

“Alpha stuff? Yeah, I know,” Prompto tried to force a joking tone in his voice and forget about how he’d felt earlier. Noctis, thankfully, just shrugged and switched subjects, leaning closer to glance down at the camera cradled in Prompto’s hands.

“Got any good ones yet?”

“Oh yeah. Never seen flowers like these before. Y’know the black part really looks like eyeballs…kind of weird, right?” He tilted the display towards Noctis, clicking through a couple of pictures. 

His heart beat a little faster as Noctis leaned in, their shoulders brushing up against each other. Prompto would’ve thought he’d gotten used to little touches like this, considering they’d been close for years now, but the contact and proximity still had him brimming with warmth. He smiled, flicking to the picture he felt most proud of—the flower in focus caught up in a breeze alongside all the blossoms and grass in the background, a cloud from above casting a wispy shadow slanted across the bright petals.

“Looks cool, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, dude,” Noctis pointed at the display, tracing the edges of the flower, “you know, the colors look super bright and cool with the shadow…I mean, I don’t know the right words to really describe it, but…looks good.”

“Wow. Super eloquent, your highness,” Prompto teased with an amused puff, “Might have to practice that before you start making royal speeches and all that stuff.”

“Shut up. Last time I try to give you a compliment.” Noctis grumbled even as a smile tugged at his lips. He rocked on his heels a moment before sitting down, content to watch Prompto as he straightened up to get a couple pictures of the landscape stretching beyond the meadow. He could sense the prince’s eyes on him, but he felt at ease, less self-conscious than he might be with anyone else.

Prompto liked this. The weird feeling from earlier had properly ebbed away, his heart no longer so tight and tense in his chest. With his and Noct’s personal bubbles pressed up together like this, he felt less alone.

And yet—maybe if he were an alpha, or _anything_ at all—maybe there wouldn’t even _be_ any bubbles.

Prompto’s nose no longer tickled and itched like it had before, but his head still felt foggy, eyes a sliver more difficult to keep focused. He tried blinking rapidly again and tried to hide rubbing his temple with a turn of the head, but Noctis caught him anyway.

“You doing good? These things making you feel weird?” He prodded the petals of a bud growing low to the ground.

“Dude, they’re just _flowers_ , c’mon. I’m not that much of a loser,” Prompto sniffed, moving fingers down to pinch at his nose. “They just smell super strong for some reason.”

“Really? Smell pretty normal to me.”

“Yeah, I dunno. Maybe I’m just sensitive to them…” He shrugged his shoulders, thinking little of it. Apart from the brush with allergies he didn’t mind, as the flowers smelled pretty nice, if it a little overwhelming. Kind of like walking into a cloud of freshly sprayed perfume, scent pleasant but lingering just on the edge of burning without going over.

Time passed easily, the sun above them soon clipping over the distant trees and sending streaks of reddish gold across the sky. Prompto had long flopped on his back, camera cradled idly in his hand as sometimes he snapped a couple lazy shots, but mostly enjoyed the alone time with his best friend as best as he could. The fuzziness in his head and the heavy smell of the flowers had him feeling sleepy, and he was nearly ready to doze off for the second time today when Noctis spoke up. 

“Hey.”

Prompto glanced over to see Noctis had plucked one of the flowers from its stem and now turned it over in his hands, petals brushing delicately against his palm. Prompto was familiar with the calluses there, let himself imagine what it’d feel like to touch them as the flower did.

“Yeah? ‘Sup?” He shoved the thoughts away, propping himself up on one elbow and tucking tousled blond hair behind his ear.

Noctis’ fingers tensed around the stem of the flower, and his lips moved like he was about to say something, when Gladio’s gruff voice cut across the meadow.

“You two wanna eat, you better quit playing grab-ass and get over here!”

Noctis groaned, jerking his head in the direction of his shield’s call. Prompto caught a bit of the setting sun’s glow on his cheeks, his own head feeling a bit dizzy.

He didn’t know if he’d welcomed Gladio’s interruption or not, but at the mention of food his gut gurgled loudly enough to make Noctis’ snicker and forget his annoyance.

“Guess we better head over, then.”

* * *

By the time they made it back to camp Prompto could already feel hunger cramps starting to twist in his lower stomach, and the smell of the stew simmering over the fire practically had him salivating like a dog. Suddenly starving, he bounded over to take a seat and grab a bowl full of steaming-hot stew.

The meat smelled _heavenly_. Usually he tried to restrain himself, self-conscious of pigging out too much in front of his friends, but all that anxiety flew away as he tucked into the steaming bowl in his hands, tender garulessa steak falling apart on his tongue as he gulped down the meal so quick and ravenously that his throat almost hurt.

With his mouth full of food Prompto was hardly in his usual conversationalist spirit, but that didn’t stop Noctis from sliding into the seat beside him as he picked the meat and potatoes out of his own dinner.

“He thinks he can try and hide them from me if he cooks it all together like this,” Noctis murmured as he fished out a couple of limp mushrooms and slipped them into Prompto’s bowl, earning them both Ignis’ warning glance.

“Hey, at least it’s not going to waste,” Noctis retorted as Prompto’s noisy slurps filled the air. He’d left the spoon on the arm of his chair, deciding to instead drink directly from the bowl. 

Even with one hearty serving of stew plus his stomach gurgles for more, making him spring to his feet for a seconds. Thankfully, Ignis’ had the foresight to make a bit extra, and Prompto fills his bowl and returns to the chair besides Noctis to scarf it down.

“You’ll hardly taste it if you don’t bother to chew,” Ignis sighed, slow sips pointed contrast toPrompto’s almost-frantic gulps **.** The boy’s shoulders fell in guilt, trying to take it slower even as his hunger continued to gnash in his stomach.

“Sorry, I promise, I can definitely still taste it and it’s _definitely_ amazing,” he insisted after another mouthful. He wasn’t _lying_ —honestly, Ignis’ food almost tasted even better than it had before, though even with a second helping halfway down his hunger only barely felt satisfied.

Embarrassment finally stopped him from grabbing a third bowl though he craved it. He kept his arms loosely crossed over his stomach, distracting himself from the gnawing cramp as he tried to ease into the post-meal banter of his friends. It felt less like mere hunger now, more like his abdomen were trying to pull away from the rest of his insides He managed to suppress a grimace, chalking the discomfort up to the fact that he’d just downed two bowls of food twice as fast as he usually did. Yet this feeling, combined with the fuzziness and sneezing he’d dealt with in the meadow, he was starting to get a little worried.

 _Ugh._ He really hoped he wouldn’t end up sick. 


	2. The World Spins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everything! Here we go with chapter two. It was originally around 9k but I decided to split it up to make it a little more manageable, so hopefully the next part will be up very soon! 
> 
> We really get into the thick of it with this one...I hope you guys are ready for some serious Prompto-related pain. And it's only gonna get worse ;) (and then better....maybe...)

Prompto should’ve known something was up when he, upon waking up, rolled over to see that even _Ignis_ was still sleeping soundly inside of the tent.

In the dozens of nights since they’d been traveling, he was pretty sure he’d never actually seen the advisor asleep. Prompto assumed he did, naturally, unless Ignis was some kind of machine powered by Ebony, but had never witnessed it himself until right now.

He tried to lay back down and go back to bed but quickly found sleep wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. He felt restless, his gut twitching and roiling. At first he assumed last night’s dinner hadn’t settled with his oft-unruly stomach, but the tightness in his core like a weird, softly clenching fist reminded him less of nausea and more of the pinches his got in his calves when he pushed too hard running.

It’d been awhile since he’d felt those. Nowadays Prompto could just push and push and push, if that’s what it took to get caught up.

He let out a soft yawn and ruffled his hand through his hair, combing it into something resembling his usual style. He’d fix it up later, once he’d fully woken up.

Prompto remained still for a couple moments, enjoying the calm of the morning. Deep, easy breaths sighed past his lips, and he almost felt like he could just fall back asleep again, return Ignis his King ofEarly Birds title, when he noticed something strange.

He furrowed his eyebrows and sniffed at the air around him, still-sleepy brain trying to make sense of the weird feeling creeping into his sinuses.

How’d he never notice how strong the early morning smelled?

As he stayed and sniffed Prompto noted the scent of the dewy grass outside and the way the sun had begun to warm the canvas walls of the tent. He could smell the earth around them, still cool from the long night. He could even smell the smoldering remains of the campfire, tinged with the lingering savor of last night’s meal.

He sniffled, rubbing his nose. It felt like what’d happened yesterday in the meadow, only double-strength. Everything he could normally smell seemed magnified and sharp, like if he needed to he could narrow in on each one, individually.

But there was something more.

As Prompto sat, half-in half-out of his sleeping bag, some other scents drifting his way, scents that had him confused as to their origin. He tipped his head back, nose in the air and eyebrows knit together as he tried to pinpoint what exactly he was smelling. Finally figuring it wasn’t wafting in from outside, he turned his head and followed the scent to the sleeping bag besides him.

 _Noctis_.

Prompto’s eyes widened slightly in realized as he watched the prince sleep, watched the way the hands resting on his stomach fell and rose with each even breath.

He’d never been able to _really_ smell Noctis before—not unless the prince had been fighting hard enough to work up a sweat or wound up covered in daemon guts. Back in Insomnia, he’d used to wear the occasional spritz of cologne that smelled so fancy Prompto had felt he should be shelling out cash for each inhale, but this was different.

The scent was faint but undeniable, especially as Prompto leaned in closer, upper body propped up by an elbow.

Noctis’ hair lay messy in his sleep, clinging to his neck and spread out over his pillow. His shirt was mussed too, collar loose from wear and showing off part of his collarbone. Prompto could even see a little glimmer of wetness at the side of his mouth, tickled at the idea that Noctis might start drooling. Absolutely _kingly_.

Still, even though Noctis hardly looked regal in his current state, his face was relaxed and at ease and that _scent_ wound Prompto in even closer. 

The aroma was stronger by Noctis’ neck, especially where the curve of his jawline met his throat. Prompto craned his neck, nostrils flickering as he tried to sort out of the exact notes of Noctis’ scent, wanting to commit them to memory in case this was just a fluke.

He smelled most like smoky wood, but smoother than that of the dead campfire outside. Heady and masculine, liquid and everywhere like the night, as if Prompto could sink himself inside and not come up and be totally fine with that.

It was only when his nose nearly brushed up against Noctis’ jaw that Prompto realized just how close he’d gotten to the prince. The brush of downy, imperceptible hair on his friend’s skin had Prompto’s breath gasping in his throat and he recoiled, both hands reaching up to cup over his nose, palms warm against the flush on his cheeks.

Only now, with his nose covered and arched back away from the immediate proximity of Noctis’ scent, did Prompto notice that the tightening in his stomach had grown worse, churning like a storm and evolved into something he recognized with a gulp.

 _Dumbass_ , he chastised once he got a grip back on his hazy thoughts, _you’re gonna blow it_.

He scooted away from Noctis, his own sleeping bag tangling around his legs as he tried to worm his way out of it. The warmth and tension in his stomach had started to spread downwards, coloring his cheeks redder in shame.

Prompto really didn’t want to deal with something as embarrassing as morning wood—if that’s really what was going on—within the proximity of three alphas, so he rolled to his feet as quietly as possible and slipped out of the tent. His boots felt cold in the early morning but he wiggled them on anyway, the drop in temperature more a welcome relief than irritating.

He trudged out of camp and back towards the meadow he’d photographed the day before, but the brisk walk he’d had planned quickly turned into something more sordid as the fabric of his pajama shorts tightened around his crotch. Though far away from the aromas of the tent, the sweat tickling on the back of Prompto’s neck and the bulge in his pants quickly told him he needed to take care of this first before he could even think about going back to camp.

He worried his lip, taking a look around to make sure nothing—and _nobody_ —was watching him as he crouched down and let the tall grasses and leering flowers hide him as he slid his pants down past his hips.

* * *

When Prompto returned, Ignis had finally awoken. He knelt by the campfire, probing it with a long poker. When he looked up, Prompto’s saw his hair not styled, but down and soft and framing his face in dusky brown, and he hid his cheeks with his arm in a quick sneeze as ash tickled his nose.

“You woke up first?” Ignis asked as soon as Prompto finished rubbing his face.

“Oh yeah. Y’know, just had to….take care of business.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the meadow, then towards his crotch. Ignis blinked, impassive.

“Ah. Well then.” He went back to stoking the fire. The little glowing embers reflected back in his glasses.

Prompto hadn’t noticed it in the tent, what with most of his focus zeroed in on Noctis, but as he moved to sit around the fire and watch Ignis stoke it back to life, he realized he could also pick a subtle scent off the older alpha. Like Noctis’ it was faint, and but unlike with Noctis, Prompto didn’t dare try to get a closer whiff of the very much awake Ignis and instead stayed in his seat and quietly mulled on the bit of the alpha’s scent he could make out.

Gladio came ambling out of the tent just as Ignis’ finally stirred the campfire back to life and set about preparing breakfast. Prompto’s attention quickly shifted to the biggest alpha, a deep musky scent wafting over him so suddenly it had him blinking and trying to shake it out of his head.

“You still half asleep there, kid?” Gladio clapped his shoulder before taking the seat on the opposite site of the campfire and bracing his hands behind his head as he relaxed.

“Nuh-uh…” Prompto managed, though the scent only grew stronger now that Gladio was closer, as if someone had taken the alpha’s favorite leather jacket and wrapped it around Prompto’s head. Not exactly unpleasant but definitely overwhelming.

“Actually…I woke up first today,” he spoke with a tinge of pride, earning Gladio’s bemused look.

“Really?Here I was thinking nothing would stop Ignis’ winning streak…”

“It’s not a competition,” the alpha in question murmured as he added four thick slices of toast to the pan. The smell of sizzling butter wafted into Prompto’s nose. He licked his lips.

“ _Hmm_. And then there was one…” Gladio dropped his elbows down to the armrests and glanced back towards the tent. “Princess still out like a light, surprising no one.”

Prompto followed Gladio’s sight with an awkward swallow. He remembered Noctis resting so soundly, hardly stirring even when he’d gotten _way_ too close. For once Prompto was thankful over how dead-to-the-world his friend could be in his sleep.

The smell of cooking food thankfully distracted him from more troubling thoughts, and he started to zone out, watching the way the eggs in the campfire pan sizzled and clouded over. His mouth watered and hung partially open, not thinking about how dazed he might look to the others.

Just as Ignis began plated breakfast the tent finally started to rustle once more, zipper clinking for a couple seconds before Noctis managed to draw the flap open and shuffle outside.

“Right on cue…” Gladio smirked as the prince ambled on over, hair mussed and eyelids partially closed, still waking up. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, cracking his joints and pulling the hem of his shirt up over his stomach.

Prompto shied away from looking at Noctis at first, thanks to just how close they’d gotten in the tent, until the prince sat down in the chair besides him and rested his head against his shoulder.

“Morning,” he mumbled, breath rolling over the blond’s upper arm, “smells good.”

“Haha, yeah, you too—I mean, _me too_. Smells good to me too.” Prompto corrected, fumbling with the plate before he scooted to the edge of his seat and handed it out to Ignis, who’d started serving lest their meal grow cold.

Prompto ate his fill, hunger from last night lingering, although the nagging tightness in his stomach kept him from gorging as much as he wanted. Thankfully, with fried eggs, ham, and toast on the menu Noctis seemed more eager to steal from Prompto’s plate than push more food on him like he had at dinner, and the both of them ended up with more than enough to sustain them for the day’s hunt. 

 _Right_. The hunt. He swallowed a too-big piece of ham, throat a little tight. With all the weirdness going on with his stomach and senses he worried about how it might affect his skills in battle, but speaking up didn’t seem like a smart move. Sure, his friend kept telling him to open up if he had a problem, but though the problems were annoying he didn’t feel they were pressing enough to bring to the group’s attention. So what, he could smell more dirt and grass than he could before? Big deal.

The tension in his stomach was probably a bit more worrying, but it wasn’t like he’d never dealt with digestive issues before. It’d probably pass before long, and if not Prompto felt he could push through it, at least until they’d finished the hunt.

He wasn’t about to let anyone down—not when they’d already come this far.

* * *

The day shouldn’t feel this hot.

The hilly, forested terrain provided plenty of coverage, and clouds clustered in the sky above, occasionally casting Prompto in shadow as they clipped in front of the sun. Sure, they’d been running for awhile now, tracking the pack of saberclaws they’d been tasked to kill, but with the ample vegetation and cool breeze rolling down from the mountains, Prompto shouldn’t be feeling this overheated.

And yet, by the time they’d started zeroing in on their prey, Prompto was already sweating in earnest, shirt sticking to his back as he jogged behind his friends. Usually he kept pretty good pace, running just slightly behind Noctis as he deferred to the prince’s lead, but today he could hardly push himself any harder, and as much as it stung to lag behind everyone else, he couldn’t afford to waste energy in a sprint.

 _Gotta save it for the big moment_ , he reminded himself before nearly stumbling on a loose crop of gravel. He noted Gladio glancing back but didn’t respond, just pumping his arms as he sought to close the gap between himself and the others.

He couldn’t let himself lose focus. Especially not during such an easy hunt. 

After battling daemons in the night and fending off hoards of MTs during the day, a regular old pack of saberclaws felt like a welcome breath of relief—well, it would, if Prompto’s breath didn’t already feel labored.

Noctis struck first—as usual—blade slamming through the largest of the pack before the other beasts could react. Prompto gritted his teeth as the weight of his gun manifested in his hand, trying to focus against the sweat collecting on his skin as Gladio and Ignis joined the fray alongside Noctis.

For once Prompto felt thankful he could attack at a range and hang back away from the immediate heat of the battle. Usually the distance had him feeling like a coward, a weakling unable to handle the hairsbreadth risk of close combat, but with the heat radiating from his core and the sun glimmering down on him from above he found himself grateful for the space between him and the saberclaws.

Unfortunately, just as it looked that they would finish this as quickly as it’d started, the brush to Prompto’s right suddenly rustled with activity, revealing reinforcement saberclaws that sprang towards them. Prompto gasped and shifted his attention, trying to dance back and put more space between himself and the fresh enemies even as his numb feet dragged against the ground. He clenched his teeth and shot one saberclaw through the foreleg, sending it stumbling to the ground and causing the two behind it to trip over its yowling bulk. Prompto clapped a hand to his side as he danced away, tension winding in his middle as his breathing labored. Despite the ache he managed to fire a couple rounds into the tangle of downed saberclaws, dispatching them as they struggled to get back on their feet.

_Keep going keep going keep going keep going—_

Prompto heard the yowl behind him not a moment too late, and yet still he couldn’t twist and leap away away quick enough to stop the ambushing saberclaw’s tusk from gouging into his forearm and ripping a long, messy red line down towards his wrist. Agony shot up his muscles as he bit down on a cry, blood splattering outwards as he stumbled to the side, the saberclaw carried away from him by its own lunging momentum.

He could feel the beat of his heart everywhere—in his chest, his wounded arm, his stuffy head, his twisting loins—the pressure and noise setting him on edge even as he swallowed down his fear and tries to focus. The saberclaw leapt at him again, and this time he was able to sidestep quickly, dodge the creature’s flailing tusks, and crack a blow on the back of its skull with the butt of his gun.

The rapid, almost uneven thumps of his heart left him frazzled and filled with mounting dread as he tried to right his balance and his focus on the last legs of fight even as his brain screamed at him to _end it, end it now, you can’t take much more of this, you can’t—_

Usually Prompto tried to hit their marks in the throat or flank, unable to quash that twinge of guilt at killing beasts only following instincts. But as the saberclaw whirled around, shaking its injured head before bounding towards him once more, he lifted his gun and willed his trembling hands to steady on the grip before he blowed the creature’s godsdamn face apart.

Just as the saberclaw’s corpse skidded to a halt in front of him Prompto’s vision finally gave out and went fuzzy **,** adrenaline of the fight crashing over him like a wave now that his mark lay dead and ruined before him, and as he struggled to keep a steady posture and keep his grip on his gun the smell of blood rushed back to him like he’d being grabbed by the back of the head and dunked right into it. Any pride he may have felt at lasting through the duration of the hunt wiped away as heat and pain and twisting sickness launched from the pit inside him he’d been trying to push it into.

It almost felt like something was swelling inside of him, pushing all his organs thin and tight until he could hardly breath.

His vision melted further at the sensation, all far shapes melting together like his contacts had been squeezed out of his eyes, the loss abruptly amplifying his other senses like the world’s worst super power. His skin twitched violently like it’d finally decided to detach from his muscles. Far away he could hear voices—quiet, then louder, then quiet again. Was one of those voices his own? He couldn’t tell any longer.

His nose pulsed with unwanted scent, sinuses stuffed and aching. All he could smell was blood—and salt and sweat and earth and grass all soaked all stained with blood all swollen and blooming with blood—until something cut through it like an arrow, slim and dark and smoky and there was pressure on his arm and shadows in his face and his mouth slid open, too full of spit even as his chapped lips crack and he wanted to speak but it was too much, everything was too full and too much and boiling pressure steaming _heat heat heat_ he couldn’t take it—

The bubble burst.

The fire and pain that’d been just barely held back as he’d pushed through the fight exploded outwards so violently that Prompto almost expected a wound.When he looked down to his chest to try to see if he’d been hit by one of the saberclaws he’d failed to finish off however the last grasp he had on his balance and vision abruptly snapped. The ground tumbled and his feet felt as light as his head as his spine turned to liquid. Something firm snagged around his waist before he smacked into the earth but the pressure around his middle made the pain and heat inside him shriek, and before he knew it the sound of his thumping heart and heaving lungs made it into his mouth and he cried and hacked something thick and heavy down his shirt.

* * *

Ignis had noted the way Prompto was flagging not long after the battle had begun.

Some of his shots had gone wider than normal, striking rocks or punching through vegetation. The scattered accuracy might make sense thanks to the agility of the saberclaws, but Prompto was still missing more targets than usual, even up against quicker foes.

He was struggling to keep proper distance from the beasts as well—though he could engage in close combat in a pinch, his skills served the battle—and himself—much better if he could fight at long range. Prompto usually provided cover for the three alphas while they true the meat of their enemies’ attention, but for whatever reason a couple of the saberclaws drew to Prompto instead. Ignis had already re-doubled his efforts to drawn the aggression of the beasts’ towards himself, trying to present the more enticing target. Thankfully both Noctis and Gladio had noticed and done the same themselves, but as more saberclaws mobbed them it became harder and harder.

Though aware of Prompto’s struggling, Ignis willed him to fight through it until they completed the hunt. If nothing else, the boy had persistence that he could appreciate, especially in moment’s like these where precision and endurance were their objective’s greatest needs. With more saberclaws filtering out of the thicket, Ignis would need his party’s full attention in order to minimize injury.

Sadly, it soon seemed whatever was slowing Prompto down had gotten the best of him, and Ignis’ head whipped around a moment too late at the sound of a pained cry—only for his attention to snap back towards the saberclaw that nearly raked its paw across his thigh. Scowling, he thrust a dagger up into its roaring mouth, piercing straight through the boney palate and into the brain.

By the time he and Gladio had dispatched the last of the saberclaws Noctis had already warped to Prompto’s side, but any relief the advisor felt at seeing the prince take charge in his friend-turned-vassal’s defensevanished when he noticed Noctis stumble and sensed his panicked shouts even before they left his throat.

He saw Noctis under Prompto’s sudden dead weight, the boy completely unable to hold himself up. His boots slipped against the earth, his knees shaking as he sloughed against the prince, chin knocking against his own chest. Ignis bolted over with Gladio trailing behind, both their weapons vanishing in a vortex of blue. Noctis looked up as the other alphas approached him, eyebrows raised upwards in hopeless worry.

“Ignis, I—he’s not—“

“Let him down.”

Noctis sunk into a crouch, laying Prompto down as carefully as he could with his friend’s limp limbs in the way. He weakly curled up on his side the moment he touched the ground taking quick, shallow gasps of breath that trembled through his entire body. His eyelids shuddered, mind not unconscious but perhaps unaware.

“Did you see what happened?”

“No, I—one of them went for him, but he _got_ it, I don’t know why he just…” Noctis shook his head, trying to make sense of what’d went on. Ignis’ pursed his lips before carefully reaching forward to get a look at Prompto’s arm to see if they’d missed something, but while the cut in his flesh trickled profuse blood onto the grass below it looks minor, especially compared to some of the wounds Prompto had already suffered.

Noctis must have read Ignis’ thinking because he was already pulling a potion from the Armiger and handing it off to the advisor’s steadying fingers before he could even ask. Ignis uncorked the vial and tapped out a couple drops of liquid against the slash in Prompto’s arm. If nothing else, healing this wound might help them narrow down what exactly had laid their gunner so low.

The potion evaporated into Prompto’s skin, light steam rising from the wound as flesh started to knit over the churning gore. It sealed up into a perfect pink seam, scar lingering only a moment longer before it too faded away into the boy’s freckled skin.

Hope rose inside Ignis as Prompto reacted to the healing, croaking as he tried to speak. He prayed to hear the boy’s sunny voice return to him with his only visible injury now vanished.

But groan that started to spill from Prompto’s mouth sounded low and mindless, like a wounded beast, and Ignis’ hair stood on end in alarm as the boy’s body suddenly jerked and stiffened, like he’d been shocked by electricity. Prompto’s lips moved slowly, words trying to crack out of the hoarse slur of sound.

“I….Igs…”

“Yes. I’m here. Can you tell me what happened to you?” Ignis tried, but Prompto shook his head, long hair dirtied and fraying.

“N-No….it’s…it’s not…” The way Prompto’s throat struggled to swallow was almost audible.

“Please, Prompto. Try to focus. Help us help you.”

A sliver of blue slid out from under puffy red lids, briefly wavering to meet Ignis’ eyes before he clenched them tight.

“H-Hurts…. _hot_ …”

Prompto’s fingernails suddenly raked down both forearms as he struggled to grab onto himself, alarming pinpricks of blood already sprouting from the tender skin. His fingers twitched without control as they managed to find his chest, clawing down his shirt and digging into his pecs as if his very flesh caused him pain.

Gladio grabbed his wrists and yanked them away from his chest before Prompto could cause himself any lasting damage, though he swore and shook and jerked his arms around in the alpha’s hold.

“The hell’s he doing?” Gladio’s eyes raked over Prompto’s body, worrying and frustration battling out in his expression.

Ignis didn’t respond—honestly unsure himself. He snatches the finger of his glove in his teeth and pulls it off, pressing the bare palm of his hand against Prompto’s forehead to get a better read on his temperature. It’s high— _alarming_ , beads of sweat already sliding along the crease where his hand meets the blond’s skin. He’s feverish and _damn it_ , Ignis should have checked in with him when he’d first noticed Prompto trailing behind him when he usually ran side by side with Noctis. He should have noticed the boy falling ill, because gods know Prompto wouldn’t ever part with that information voluntarily, not if it meant getting in the way of the hunt. Ignis usually appreciated the tenacity, but not at such a dire cost. If only he’d paid closer attention, Prompto might not have taken that hit and crumpled under the weight of— _whatever_ was going on. He was still working on that.

However—this close, and without the stench of saberclaw blood in his nose—Ignis finally picked up on something he’d missed in the thick of the battle.

Prompto smelled different. And not just different than before—different than _anything_ he’d smelled before. He had never had much measurable scent apart from the lesser coat of skin and hair and shampoo and dirt, with little other natural odor to speak of. But now, something strong smothered all that up and sent shakes through Ignis’ usual unflappable cool.

The new scent smelled like it’s been bottled and left to ferment for years, forgotten by whoever meant to tap it. Musty and slightly sour, with notes of sweetness Ignis could pick out if he stopped for a second and takes a deep, slow inhale.

He wanted to keep his distance from the situation, to analyze the best course of action and proceed thusly. But with Prompto pinned down, writhing helplessly against the ground as his friends kept his limbs pressed against the grass lest he scratch the flesh off his chest, with the acrid scent making Ignis’ vision shimmer and his nose burn, thinking clearly became all the more difficult.

So instead, he tried listening to instinct.

When his glasses began to fog, cheeks responded to the warmth radiating off of Prompto’s body, the pieces finally clicked into place.

“This.” Ignis steady expression faltered with a sharp gasp. “This is a _heat_.”

“What?” His companions respond, but Ignis wasted little time confirming whether they had misunderstood or were merely incredulous. His mind was already racing yards ahead with this new bit of information as it tried to grasp with what to do next.

“But he’s not anythi—I mean—“ Noctis corrected, but failed to finish his thought. His hands now rest against Prompto’s chest, as if assuring himself of the pace of his heart. All three linger in silence for a breath, before Gladio glanced up.

“He’s not an omega.”

“Indeed.” Ignis might have the knowledge and field experience regarding most major medical concerns, but the exact phenotyping this required escaped him. “I don’t feel comfortable… _diagnosing_ him precisely. But you all can smell him.”

Prompto whimpered, and his scent spiked in Ignis’ senses. All three alphas’ noses flared in near-unison. Gladio’s expression was grim. Noctis looked lost.

“Right…what else could it be?” The shield grunted, his hands less firmly placed on Prompto’s arms, nervous. Noctis still kept his hands firm on his friend’s chest, but as Prompto’s head turned towards him he pulled his teeth against his lower lip.

“But it doesn’t…” Ignis noted the prince’s difficulty in organizing his thoughts, vague tilts of the head trying to help his mind along. “Something is just…. _off_.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed, “I’ve…all omegas smell different in heat, but _this_ …”

Prompto jerked his arms in once last, violent attempt to break away from the alphas touching him, weak cries finally falling from his lips as he sagged, wrists falling from Gladio’s grip. Ignis almost breathed a sigh of relief, grateful Prompto no longer seemed interested in clawing himself raw, but any comfort he took in that fact fell away a moment later when the blond started to cry.

Tears leaked from his eyes like he didn’t have the energy or care to hold them back, and though obviously distressed the flush in his cheeks and bulge in his pants spoke to more than just emotional misery.

Ignis set his teeth on edge in sympathy. _Already, Prompto was aroused to the point of agony._

For a terse moment, the blond’s sobs of frustration and need were the only sounds Ignis could hear, as if the entire world around them had grown silent. Only when a weak, shaky voice forced itself louder did he snap out of it, and realize Noctis was speaking to him. He lifted his attention from Prompto’s shuddering body to lock eyes with each other.

The trauma of recent events had taken its toll on the would-be king, leaving him despairing but honed in determination—still-learning but fierce in mind and body, growing into an alpha primed to fight even that insurmountable battle against the Empire.

Right now, however, Noctis looked more the withdrawn child Ignis remembered from his youth. _Hurt_ , though now he carried no injuries. He struggled to keep his eyes off of Prompto, seeking guidance from Ignis as his best friend trembled and moaned beneath his hands.

“What do we do?”

Even as Ignis cycled through a handful of reasonable courses of action, sorting them out by what Prompto needed and what they could do for him, something feral tried pushing to the forefront. His instinct hissed about what he _should_ do with a weak little omega caught in a heat, but he considered its voice for only a brief moment more before practiced cool took over and smoothed any arousal he might have to a dismissible low.

“Let’s get him back to camp first.”

“Got it,” Gladio grunted, and moved to pick Prompto up.

Ignis didn’t miss the way Noctis’ fingers tensed, and before he could warn Gladio the shield had already placed his hands beneath Prompto’s body and caused the prince to snap. Canines glinted in the sunlight as Noctis’ lips pulled back, a defensive growl working its way up from his throat before he fully realized what he was doing.

“ _Noctis_ ,” the advisor interjected as soon as Gladio’s eyebrows creased inwards, yanking their usual playful competitiveness away from deepening somewhere more serious. Both of the other alphas stilled at Ignis voice, though Noctis kept his hands secure atop Prompto just as Gladio had his still slid beneath him. 

“Gladio has the greatest physical strength,” he explained in further meditation. He watched Noctis worry his lip, as if weighing the challenge, before he finally gave in and lifted his hands off of Prompto’s body.

“Okay.”

Gladio, thankfully, lifted the blond up into his arms with little more than a weighted grunt, holding his limp form with all the gentleness his bulk could afford. Noctis stayed close to his shield, hands kneading his forearms as he tried to pull himself together.

Ignis turned away for only a moment, dagger sawing through one of the saberclaws tusks to bring back as proof, though gil was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment.

Still. With such a critical, worrisome situation now looming over them all, it would not hurt to buttress their safety net.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys thought of this one!


	3. That Awkward Little Silence Grew Into a Definite Hush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said I split up the second chapter because it was getting too long, but then this part ended up over seven thousand words anyway....oops. 
> 
> Well, a lot of stuff happens that I hope makes sense. Some things that seem unclear now will be made more definite later (if I can manage to make them come across) so apologies if some parts seem under-explained. I tried to keep everyone's feelings and motivations coherent even as the situation changes, so I hope it all seems organic. 
> 
> Also, just so you guys know, that "consent issues" tag is going to come into play here and into the next chapter, so be prepared for that.

Prompto stayed out of it for most of the trek back to camp, though even with his mind lost and dazed his body seemed driven to get what it wanted. More than once Gladio had to stop and adjust his hold when Prompto decided to try to turn around in his arms and press his hips against the shield’s body.

A lump rose up in Noctis’ throat each time Gladio had to carefully dissuade Prompto from humping him. Though he usually led the direction of the pack, right now he’d forgone that position to jog alongside his shield, keeping an eye on Prompto’s condition—though maybe that’d been a poor choice, he wondered, as he nearly tripped over a patch of rough terrain, distracted by a muffled moan from his best friend.

Noctis had never seen an omega in heat. For obvious reasons, they tended to keep to themselves in such times, citing an unfortunate number of alphas who didn’t seem to understand boundaries. He could remember catching a whiff of pre-heat scent on some of his classmates and palace retainers from time to time, though they would inevitably take leave and hole up within their homes before the smell grew strong enough to seriously tempt the alphas around them.

But was Prompto really an omega?

Ignis hadn’t seemed sure, and if Ignis wasn’t sure than Noctis had serious doubts. Heats were an omega thing, he thought, but the shock and uncertainty of the whole situation had him frazzled and unsure what he should believe.

But whether Prompto was truly an omega or not, Noctis understood one thing—this whole ordeal wasn’t good for him.

He was in obvious pain, even as he tried to grind up against Gladio, voice caught between frantic pants and half-coherent begging. He curled up so tight, already slight form looking even slighter cradled in Gladio’s large arms. His limbs bobbed and shifted with with each of the shield’s long strides, like he barely occupied his own body. Nothing like the lively and affable Prompto that kept that bit of levity afloat even as their situation plunged ever more dire. The guy who’d come to be as invaluable to the fate of the world as any of them.

Prompto had proved himself over and over again Seeing him laid low by something unexpected and uncontrollable after he’d come so far…wasn’t fair.

They mounted a small hill that finally brought the campsite into sight. Noctis picked up the pace, pushing himself and his fellow alphas those last couple of meters. Gladio still kept his lead as he cut through the meadow, tramping through the grass and flowers on his way back to the camp, eventually trotting to a halt besides the tent. Prompto still shifted in his arms but had grown quieter, his fingers fisted into the neckline of Gladio’s top. Only when Noctis scuffed to a halt besides his shield did he notice the smear of red around his friend’s lips.

“Damn it….Prom…” he groaned as he reached forward but stopped just before his fingers brushed against the blood trickling sluggish from Prompto’s mouth. He could see deep, blunt wounds in his lips, usual peach-pink skin ruined and smeared. Gladio hissed at the sight as Noctis stayed still and uncertain whether to touch.

“What’s happened?”

“Looks like he bit right through…”

“Get him lying down inside, then we’ll deal with it.”

Noctis quickly unzipped the tent’s entrance, allowing Gladio to hunch down and crouch inside. He followed his shield, grabbing loose blankets and sleeping bags and shoving them together, giving Prompto the softest place possible to lay down. Gladio settled the shaking blonde into the nest of bedding, wiping off the sweat that’d begun to collect on his brow before trying to do the same to Prompto. Noctis noted the way it lingered, fingertips stroking against the blond’s limp bangs, but just as he felt a prickle on back of his neck Gladio retracted his hand and fumbled the half-empty vial from before out of his pocket.

“Let’s deal with that mouth.”

Gladio flecked a couple drops of potion on his lips before Ignis returned with a bottle of water, pushing it to Prompto’s mouth as soon as the gouges had begun to heal. As slow as he tipped it back Prompto still choked, his body forgetting to do much besides twitch and shiver beneath the onslaught of the heat. Ignis whispered gentle encouragement, supporting Prompto’s head as he tried to get him to drink more without blocking his airway. Thankfully, his throat soon bobbed without gagging and he drained half of the water bottle before pulling away, loose drool trickling down to his chin.

Ignis wet a cloth with a bit of the remaining water and pressed it over Prompto’s cheeks and forehead, catching strands of damp hair beneath it as he tried to cool him down. Noctis swallowed around the stones in his throat, unsure whether to watch or look away when Ignis suggested they remove Prompto’s clothing, his eyes eventually settling on the way his friend’s fingers twitched and clenched as his vest and pants were stripped away from his body. Noctis could see bare skin in his periphery, hand coming up to shield his nose as his scent grew even stronger without clothing smothering it.

He knew the other two must smell the hormones clinging to Prompto but so far they acted quick and with purpose as he barely watched, mind numb and useless. He couldn’t organize his thoughts though he tried, not with Prompto’s concerning scent plugging up his senses.

The bitter edge to Prompto’s odor that’d first flared up during battle still clung to the blond but it seemed fainter. It reminded Noctis that this was wrong, that Prompto’s heat wasn’t normal, but as he sat close and watched and smelled he could sense something more pleasant, more alluring.

It was as if rust had laid over Prompto’s scent, and all Noctis would have to do would be to scrape and wrench it all away to get to what really laid beneath. His fingers twitched with the urge but he pressed it back, trying to keep himself under control and convince himself this wasn’t fighting a losing battle.

Noctis finally raised his eyes at a low groan from Prompto, pulling his teeth back against his lips as he finally allowed himself to look at his friend’s half-naked body, the fact that Ignis had left his underwear on a small relief.

Promptoliedlimp, no longer scrabbling at Gladio nor moving much aside from the occasional tremble. Ignis had begun to rub the cold cloth down around his neck and onto his chest, pressing it against all those spots where major blood vessels crested close to the skin. Prompto’s face twitched at the cool pressure rubbing over his body, a few more weak moans falling from his lips as he struggled with the change in temperature.

Looking at Prompto’s body in such a situation felt almost like a betrayal of trust, but Noctis couldn’t stop his eyes drifting down over him, not wanting to focus on how slack and vacant his face looked. He’d seen flashes of Prompto’s body over the years, in between changing clothes or in the thick of battle **,** but his self-consciousness stopped him from flaunting it. Noctis didn’t fully understand why. Even now—suffering through a heat and recovering from self-inflicted injury—Prompto looked amazing.

There were old silvery scars on his skin, along with even more freckles and strange dark zig-zagmarks Noctis couldn’t place. They laid near the jut of his hipbones, almost looking textured in the light filtering in from the open tent flap. Noctis had the urge to touch and feel if they were smooth or not, but he kept himself still, letting only his eyes rove. 

With Prompto’s pants removed his arousal stood even more evident through the thin film of his boxers. The yellow fabric tented around his groin, but it was the patch that looked dark and damp between his thighs that really caught Noctis’ attention.

He tilted his head, unable to pull away from the sight. His nostrils twitched, drawing in more of that smell drifting off of Prompto. Heady and deep like he’d taken a mouthful of alcohol, feeling the burn all the way up to his nose—yet sweet, tempting like a favorite dessert.

His fingers brushed against Prompto’s thigh before he realized what he was doing. Noctis caught his hand and jerked it back towards his chest, his clenched fist flush with his throbbing heart. 

If the other two alphas had noticed, they said and did nothing, ensuring Prompto’s body temperature was sufficiently lowered before they moved away from him. Noctis hadn’t succeeded stilling his beating heart by the time Ignis turned to him, eyebrows raised in question, but he didn’t hang around to answer any before he was rising and stumbling out of the tent.

Noctis heard the rustle behind him as the others trailed behind, the sound of the tent’s zipper following. He could sense their anxiety, their anger, their arousal, all these things confusing what was the best course of action.

“We…” he started, blinking rapidly for a moment at the drop in temperature between the inside of the tent and the rest of the camp. It was like someone had dumped a bottle of water over his head, and he could feel every last droplet as it slowly crawled down his spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He shivered visibly, making a fist and pressing it against his lips. His canines bit into his gloves. The leather tasted like salt and skin.

“We need to _do_ something…” He finally finished when he noticed the other two looking to him, waiting for his response. “We can’t just _leave_ him like that.”

“Do we have a choice?”

I…just…we need to do _something_ ,” Noctis repeated, mind still stalled and unable to move past the thought. A moment of silence passed between the three men, the later afternoon wind picking at their clothes, before Ignis spoke up.

“I feel I should get started on dinner.”

Noctis frowned as the other alpha brushed past him.

“You’re thinking of _food_ at a time like this?”

Ignis sighed, palming his chin as he looked back.

“Prompto will need to eat. If he’s truly in heat, he’ll be burning twice as many, if not more calories than normal. He must get the proper sustenance if he’s going to ride this out without harming his body.”

Noctis recoiled, suddenly guilty. At any other juncture he might rise to Ignis’ bait, a challenge from another alpha, but with Prompto’s state hanging heavy over his mind he couldn’t find it in himself to fight. He trudged on over to one of the chairs by the campfire and sank into it, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff.

The _thunk thunk_ of Ignis starting to chop ingredients slightly off from his usual rhythm seemed distant to Noctis ears, like they were wrapped in cloth. Gladio eventually took a seat besides Noctis, head nearly blocking out the remainder of the sun as it sunk down towards the horizon.

“Should we try to move before nightfall?” Noctis finally croaked, realizing how quickly the day had fell away thanks to the stress of Prompto’s predicament. He glanced over his shoulder, back at Ignis, who never stopped in his smooth movements as he prepared the meal.

“For now, I think it wisest to remain where we are. Moving may draw more attention and perhaps even provoke more encounters with enemies that we don’t need right now. Besides, Prompto’s body will need rest, and if we stay it will be easier for us to tend to him when he needs food and water.”

“Am I gonna be the one to say it?” Gladio rubbed his chin, eyes dark. “We all know what he _really_ needs.”

Ignis hissed.

“I’m not sure such a coarse suggestion is acceptable right now.”

“Well, why not?” Noctis pressed. “Won’t it help him?”

He remembered health class. He remembered stilted discussions from both his father and Ignis himself. He knew how anyone suffering a heat got proper relief.

Ignis slit a barramundi filetdown the middle, expression set.

“He can’t consent.”

“And _we_ can’t let him fry his brains out.”

“Surely you can understand why I might be _hesitant_ to let any one of us near him in this capacity.”

Noctis did. He’d been tossed into his first rut at the age of sixteen and the memory still throbbed inside of him. Episodes like that since had been less intense ever since, body acclimating to the raging hormones and ceaseless arousal that came with rutting, but never would he forget that first time.

But Noctis wasn’t a teenager any longer. He’d never mated with anyone but he knew he could control himself if need be. He wouldn’t let himself be lost to arousal and instinct. He just wanted Prompto to get what he needed.

“I wouldn’t hurt him. He’d probably be more pissed that we let him suffer for…however long that lasts.”

“I see, and you know exactly what he wants since when?”

Noctis ground his teeth.

“Fine. Why don’t we just ask Prom what he wants then?” It bothered him that they talked about Prompto like he wasn’t there. Like he had no stake in this.

He pushed up from the chair and stalked in the direction of the tent, ignoring the rustle of movement behind him until Ignis’ hand came to rest on his wrist.

“Noctis, you remember. He’s not lucid. It won’t—”

“Bullshit,” Noctis pulled his arm out of the other alpha’s grip, staggering the last couple steps towards the tent and pulling open the flap. “Prom. _Prom_.”

His friend lay mostly where he’d left him, curled up on his side with his chin tucked down towards his rapidly moving chest. Noctis placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to jostle him awake. The blond’s features twitched, eyebrows creasing down and teeth clenching like he was caught in a nightmare and struggling to snap out of it.

“Come on…come on Prom. Enough’s enough. Wake up.” Noctis shook him one more time, but Prompto only shuddered and curled in on himself more, hands shoving down towards his groin. Noctis turned away before Prompto managed to find the button on his pants. Sudden uncertainty gripped him at just how glassy Prompto’s eyes looked when he finally pried them open, how he smelled of desperation and sweat and sour, burning heat.

Noctis stalled, but Prompto didn’t seem to possess his hesitation. With one hand still shifting around his crotch, the other reached out and grabbed at Noctis’ thigh, tips of his fingers dragging against the fabric of his pants as if he wanted to claw through it.

Noctis jerked at the desperate hold, at the strength in Prompto’s fingers and the look of need in his eyes. His mouth opened, loose and pink and easy to just slip in, to claim his lips with rough teeth and tongue before he shoved Prompto facedown into the nested blankets and—

An arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him clear off of the ground, yanking him out of the tent and away from Prompto. A snarl exploded from Noctis lips, louder and sharper than the one from earlier as he dug his fingers into the hand clasped against his chest, fingers bristling with summoning energy before a blast of heated breath blew over his neck.

“You keep that up, I’m dunking you in the nearest stream,” Gladio growled against his ear, dominant tone in his voice freezing Noctis blood. The larger alpha let his warning sink in for a couple more moments before he dared to let Noctis’ feet touch back against the ground, arm still wrapped around his waist in caution.

Ignis closed the tent so fast the zipper threatened to break, before standing and turning to Noctis, eyes as intimidating as Gladio’s voice.

“Are you through proving your restraint?”

Shame pulsed through Noctis’ body as his heart hammered, rendering him flushed and sagging in Gladio’s arms until the shield deposited him back into the chair around the fire. This time Noctis didn’t try to move, didn’t try to argue.

At their side, separated by a wall of canvas and so much more, Prompto grew mostly quiet, slipping in and out of consciousness just as he had before.

* * *

They wound up making a mistake.

Maybe the stress of the day had caught up with them. Maybe the scent filtering from within the canvas walls of the tent clouded their senses. Maybe they’d been trying too hard to lose themselves in the meal Ignis had prepared ** _._** But for whatever reason, none of the alphas noticed the approaching smells nor heard the crunch of boots against the grass until they were mere paces from the outskirts of camp.

Ignis saw them first, the advisor’s concern prickling on Noctis’ senses and forcing him to turn, followed by Gladio not a moment later. They all froze, nerves on edge at the sudden sight of strangers at the edge of the clearing

There was three of them. Two were brawny and just shy of Gladio’s height, the typical sort of of brutes drawn to killing for a living. The other, slimmer and slighter and the de facto leader, from his position in front of the other two, had an interested smirk on his face that sent Noctis’ teeth on edge.

Didn’t help that all three were alphas. 

Gladio was already out of his seat by the time Noctis jumped out of his, though he stayed back to buffer the prince as the hunters filtered their way into the camp. Noctis thanked the Astrals the tent laid opposite from where the strangers now stood, mind flitting back to Prompto and hoping he stayed quiet and drew little attention to himself until the hunters had been dealt with.

“Well, what do we have here? Not a really welcoming bunch, are you?” The lead hunter’s voice carried a slight nasal tone like he was sneering at everything around him—not exactly disproving Noctis’ instant distrust. His fingers prickled with energy, ready to call his weapon to hand should the need arise.

Typically, the intruders would be outnumbered, but with Prompto out of commission—

Still. They could take these losers. Gladio alone could probably chuck their leader halfway to Lestallumand still have enough energy to beat the living shit out of the other two.

“A little caution goes a long way this far from civilization,” Ignis interjected an attempt to calm between the two groups, though the tension in his own stance was obvious and mistrustful. Noctis shook away any attempt at reasoning with these guys, already stressed and on edge.

“Still no need to sic the attack dogs on us,” the look the hunter casted to both Noctis and Gladio was ripe with condescension, and though Ignis mouthed a silent _don’t_ his way, all the prince wanted was to knock it clean off his face and send these intruders running with their tails between their legs. Even if all they’d done so far was shown up unannounced and sniffed around the camp.

“ _Mmmm._ Cookin’ up some eats, huh? Far out. Smells nice.” The lead hunter thumbed through his belt loops, the smile on his face wide and lecherous. “Though there’s something in that tent that smells _a lot_ better.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as they flitted towards the entrance. Noctis’ hackles jumped up, immediately on full alert.

“Back off,” he nearly snarled with a twitch of the lip. He wanted to see that knowing smile wiped from the leader’s lips, but it only curled up at Noctis’ reaction.

“Don’t be like that. Didn’t your parents ever teach you to share?”

“You heard him.” Gladio’s baritone backed him up. The creak of the shield’s chair and the brush of roused, protective scent settles against Noctis’ shoulder. He sees the lackeys of the group flinch despite their bulk, but even the combined threat of two alphas couldn’t flag the leader’s smarmy confidence.

“Oh, come on. Just a _peek_.” He took a step towards the tent, arm stretched out.

It happened in a crackle of blue, before Noctis even realized what he was doing. His body reacted like a live wire, snapping on its own and when reality bashed back into him like a stampede the hunter was on the ground beneath him, with Noctis’ boot ground into his chest and the edge of his blade underneath the foreign alpha’s chin. The snarl on his lips sounded low and distant, like it belonged to the call of some beast. Even Noctis, if he could think about anything other than a stranger getting their hands on Prompto, might be alarmed at his own primeval reaction.

But at least the hunter finally looks nice and afraid.

Noctis’ finally pushed himself off of the other alpha, satisfied he’d properly asserted his authority, if perhaps slightly blown any cover he might have left. He watched the man scramble away, dirt and grass catching on his jacket as he pushed his way to his feet, shuffling back towards the other hunters. Noctis noticed him cradling his elbow against his chest.

 _Good_.

“You gentlemen should be leaving.” Ignis stood himself by Noctis’ right, followed by Gladio on the left, the three of them barricading the tent’s entrance, though by the bowed heads and downturned eyes of the hunters they’d already asserted their point. The lead hunter mumbled something under his breath, stealing a glance between the three alphas, before he turned to his companions and limped off, the other two trailing nervously behind him. Noctis didn’t relax until the earthy thumps of their footprints were nothing more than a memory, and when he did he felt his legs wobble and throat close. He rested his hands atop his knees and half bent over, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t think it’s safe here for Prompto any longer,” he heard Ignis murmur over the rushing in his ears, and he lifted up his head to glance back at his advisor, expression tight and set.

“What? Why not?” Had he not seen how easily they’d staved off the threat?

“I’m just considering—“

“No. We can protect him from low-lives like that. I won’t let anyone get their hands on him.”

“Noctis. It’s not a testament to your skills.”Ignis held up a palm, deflecting. “As a _precaution,_ I think it’d be wise. We should get him someplace that can better assure his safety.”

“He’s right,” Gladio interjected before Noctis could respond, “kid deserves the best kind of protection we can give him. Having fours walls around us wouldn’t exactly hurt.”

Noctis didn’t want to believe they were right, that his own abilities might not be enough to always protect Prompto as he had just then, yet as much as it nipped at his pride he knew they’d have to leave.

Honestly, he felt antsy himself sitting out here where just about anyone could—and just did—come across their camp and their afflicted friend. He didn’t fully comprehend the kind of suffering Prompto was going through, but he more or less got alphas. He’d been raised among them for most of his adolescence and had become painfully intimate with how they interacted with others, especially those biologically unlike them. And there was no telling what those not molded by the cosmopolitan values and laws of Insomnia regarding endotypes would do. How far they might go to get their hands on somebody like Prompto, with his fair features and current vulnerable state.

“Fine,” Noctis finally admitted, conjuring two scents of relief.

* * *

Prompto grew more handsy on the drive. The scent of the foreign alphas might have riled him up and driven him to crave a familiar touch. It’d been a hassle to buckle him into the backseat, what with how Prompto kept trying to burrow his face into Gladio’s chest every time the bulky alpha tried to hold him still. Once they’d finally strapped him in he’d clawed at the seatbelt like the pressure against his chest and stomach burned him—considering the height of his fever, Noctis doubted it felt too great, but the last thing they needed was Prompto bashing himself around the backseat unrestrained.

Noctis took his customary seat, refusing to part far from Prompto following the encounter with the hunters. He could see the tension around Ignis’ eyes as they roved over he and Prompto both, and for a moment Noctis prepared for an argument over their current arrangement, but his advisor said nothing of the sort as he sunk into the driver’s seat, waiting for Gladio to finish packing up the camp before starting up the engine.

Only when the car began to move did Noctis fully realize that he may have made a mistake.

Though Prompto was strapped into his seat, his arms and hands remained mostly free to stretch out and grab everything within reach that might hope to alleviate his need—including the alpha sitting besides him.

Noctis’ guilt only grew every time he had to rebuke Prompto’s advances. He would whine like the alpha had _hurt_ him, and end up cradling his hand to his chest and fidgeting in his seat for a couple more minutes before trying again. Before long, Noctis’ heart ached like it’d been stepped on, and he pleaded Ignis via the rearview mirror.

“ _Please_ tell me we’re almost…wherever we’re going.”

“ _Soon enough,”_ was the only reply he got. The car swayed slightly as Ignis sharply banked a turn, and if the situation was less dire Noctis might have ribbed him for seriously pushing the speed limit. 

Finally, just as the glow of the sunset started to disappear in the sky, they seemed to pull off to their destination. Noctis figured Ignis would try to get them to a clinic where Prompto could get the help he needed to endure this. Instead, they pulled off into the parking lot of a motel that fell somewhere in the middle of the pack out of places they’d stayed. But the quality of the motel wasn’t the main thing on Noctis’ mind.

“Thought…weren’t we gonna get Prom some help?” He brushed off the blond in question’s pawing hand as it tried to grab his thigh.

“Getting him somewhere secure is the first step towards getting him help,” Ignis murmured, sounding distracted as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. “Make sure Prompto is ready to transport when I return.”

He quickly went ahead to secure the room, leaving the other two to deal with Prompto in the backseat.

After a moment’s planning, they set about unbuckling his seatbelt before wrapping him up in Gladio’s jacket, in hope the hefty alpha’s smell might smother the lure of Prompto’s heat further. Though he said nothing in protest, Noctis doubted it, remembering how his friend’s scent had conjured those hunters out of the blue—they’d be lucky if they didn’t have half the hotel’s guests aging down their door within the hour.

But at least now they’d have a door.

He watched as Gladio tucked the long sleeves of his jacket around Prompto’s body, loosely tying them together at his back to keep his arms tight against his side. The blond whimpered at the restraint, weakly tugging at the knot before he sagged against the seat. Again, Noctis didn’t fight it, but that didn’t mean he had to like the way they were trussing Prompto up like he was a prisoner. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but it felt like they were punishing him.

As soon as he finished, Gladio slipped out of the backseat to lean against the door of the car, tense and alert as he kept an eye out for any low-lives that might think they had a chance with Prompto. Noctis could smell the other alpha’s aggressive pheromones surrounding the car in a protective boundary,now shielding them both. Despite this, Noctis’ agitation vaulted sky-high now that they’d driven back to civilization, rife with bystanders who might harbor nefarious thoughts about Prompto.

Noctis thought he might grind his canines into dust before Ignis came back, but finally the other alpha returned with their room key. Gladio wasted no time levering Prompto up into his arms, pace brisk as he followed Ignis straight to their room, Noctis running after. The lights in the outdoor corridor buzzed with too-white light, brighter in the waning evening. It had Noctis feeling exposed as Ignis’ fingers deftly slipped the key into the lock, sensor light flashing a thankful green.

Noctis hoped he might finally feel better as soon as he got Prompto into the room, but though he seemed to take to the soft bed beneath him with a tight, albeit contented sigh, the sight did little to improve the alpha’s mood. He tried sitting on the bed, getting as close as he dared without giving into temptation or triggering the attention of the other two alphas.

“Gladio—“ Ignis tapped out a quick message on his phone, the shield’s device responding seconds later. “If you could fetch these items for us…”

“Yeah. Got it.” He scanned the screen for a moment, before glancing around the rest of the room. Noctis didn’t look up, only realizing his shield was missing when the door clicked behind him.

Ignis turned the deadbolt and slid the chain lock closed as soon as Gladio left, eyeing through the peephole for a moment before heading over to the bed by the window, shoulders stiff even as he sat down on the edge and rested his chin atop folded hands. Noctis felt Ignis look past him, eyes a little glossy behind the glasses. He figured he’d leave the advisor alone and turned his attention back to Prompto.

It hurt to watch, even now when Prompto lay in relative comfort and safety, Gladio’s jacket now removed and left on the nightstand. He languished still in some kind of limbo state, stirring on the edge of consciousness. Little mumbles fell from his lips, too low and indistinct to make anything out.

Noctis tried to rest against the headboard, keeping a distance between himself and Prompto as he stretched his legs out on the bed. It felt good to rest, though the scent of his friend stopped him from relaxing completely. He tried to zone out, to ignore the smell and his own need, hoping things would stay as they were until Gladio came back and he fully understood what exactly Ignis was planning to help.

Just as Noctis felt he might doze off, Prompto rolled sharply on his side and curled inwards, arms grasping over his lower stomach. He hadn’t moved this much since they’d placed him on the bed, and the sudden shift sent alarm through Noctis’ body. He blinked sleep rapidly from his eyes and rose up on his knees.

“Prom? You okay?” He croaked, hand coming to pet Prompto’s hair. He’d, unfortunately, grown used to the feel of the heavy, sweat-soaked locks and though they felt unpleasant and unsettling against his palm, he tried stroking his fingers through them regardless. He wanted the gesture to comfort his friend just a little bit, and when Prompto blinked rapidly and tilted his chin up towards the touch, Noctis’ heart leapt in hope that it was working.

But then Prompto let out a throaty keen that must’ve penetrated through the hotel walls, lifted his head and pressed his mouth against the palm of Noctis’ hand.

He should’ve pulled away, should have pushed Prompto back down because he _knew_ his friend wasn’t in his right mind, acting purely out of whatever instinct burned through him like sickness.

Instead he sat still, lips parted slightly and eyes fixed down as Prompto’s pale pink tongue peaked between two of his fingers, his eyes misty and dull with lust as a wind-tossed sea.

“ _Noctis.”_ A hiss cut through his mind like a knife. Noctis managed to break with Prompto’s desperate face to find Ignis half-risen from the other bed, expression warning.

He ripped his hand away from Prompto’s needy mouth, and when he tried to follow him, to grasp another part of his body Noctis bolted up from the bed, the room’s light spinning as he accidentally knocked into the lamp on the nightstand.

“This…” He started, fisting his hands to stave off the shaking in his fingers. He could feel Prompto’s saliva squeeze between the creases in his palm, warmed through the heat of his own pounding blood. “This is _too much_.”

He stalked over to the foot of the bed, unable to look back at Prompto, not wanting to see the hurt and confusion no doubt scrawled all over his best friend’s face. He let out a rough huff, tipping his head forward and pressing one clenched fist against his forehead.

“I can’t tell if being in here is better or worse.” Four walls may help protect Prompto from outside threats, but it trapped them inside with a maddening scent they could do nothing about.

Well. _Not_ nothing. He lowered his fist to glare at Ignis, who crossed his arms and met his gaze with his own frown.

“Don’t look at me as if this is my fault.”

Noctis didn’t miss the hurt slipping into Ignis’ usual unflappable tone. He huffed.

“I know. I just. I don’t know why you’re so….against that.” Noctis gestured vaguely in Prompto’s direction.

“It’s not obvious?”

“I mean…just think about it like…It’s kind of…just like an elixir, right? I mean. _If_ we do this. It’ll fix everything. Right?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple—“

“Except it _is_ , it’s just instinct, it’s what we are and what he is and why’s that so wrong?”

“So you mean to sleep with Prompto no matter what he may want?”

Noctis flinched like he’d been bitten.

“I wouldn’t—do you think he _wants_ to be hurting like this?” His heart squeezed, anger building at the idea he wanted this to _harm_ Prompto rather than help him.

“He won’t be for much longer. Gladio is retrieving the proper supplies.”

“And what are we gonna do then? Just lock him up with them until it’s over?”

Ignis pressed the tips of his fingers against his lips, regarding Noctis with a serious, albeit slightly at-loss expression that had anger unfurling properly in the prince’s body.

“You’re _serious_.”

“What would you have me do?” There was sincerity in Ignis’ question, almost as if he didn’t know exactly what to do either, but the thought of his advisor’s uncertainty got Noctis feeling a little like spinning, and he closed his eyes and rested his face in both palms with a frustrated _huff_.

“Why—why can’t we just take him to a doctor or something. I don’t…I don’t know what they’d be able to _do_ , but maybe they could just knock him out until this is over or something…”

Ignis’ scent drifted closer but Noctis kept his palms over his eyes until a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“I need you to understand that not every place is as _progressive_ as the Crown City was. Even in a place you would _expect_ objectivity, such as a hospital—“

“You don’t have to _lecture_ me, you know,” Noctis interrupted, but his shoulders deflated, fight gone out.

“It’s not a _lecture_ , I’m trying to explain to you that things are more _complicated_ than they would be with a simple illness or injury.” The calm pressure of Ignis’ hand led Noctis to sit down on the opposite bed.“Unfortunately, with such irregula— _excuse me_ —inconsistencies as Prompto is currently exhibiting, bias may override even the importance of his health.”

Unknown variables loaded Ignis’ words, sinking inside of Noctis’ chest as yet another avenue of help grew dark. He didn’t want to consider the fact that if they entrusted Prompto’s care to another it may be violated further. Strangers were unkind enough to those suffering normal heats. No telling what might happen considering Prompto’s body still seemed to struggle, unsure of what it was or what it wanted.

“What if something worse happens?” Noctis croaked, eyes fallen to his knees. “What if he…what if he’s not all right after this?”

The hand on his shoulder began to move, rubbing small, soothing circles down his arm and back up.

“Rest assured, if his condition changes to that of a medical emergency, I won’t hesitate. I don’t know what the consequences may be, but…I wouldn’t let him die.”

To hear Ignis speak so resolutely on the fears that’d been swirling around Noctis’ head the past couple hours had his throat thick and tight. The walls of the hotel trapped him in worse than the tent, stifling him to the point where he felt like he needed to stick his head outside to get some air, but instinct glued him to Prompto’s side, stopped him from wanting to lift his head out of the stinking morass of temptation _._

He was stuck, and worse—Prompto was stuck. Mindless and suffering and probably not even understanding why the people who were supposed to be his friends were denying him what he needed.

 _Gods_. Noctis let himself lean against Ignis’ shoulder, stifling a whimper into his shirt. _He just wanted to help_.

* * *

Gladio realized he might look a little out of place in the small shop he’d found nearby the hotel. Seemed unlike many of the other outposts he stopped at, this one consisted mostly of locals instead of hunters, so the sight of a six-foot-something muscle-bound alpha slathered in scars and tattoos might not be what the slight beta clerk manning the register was used to.

The list Ignis had sent him was mostly the usual stuff—reserve curatives, water, energy drinks—plus a couple items Gladio might be embarrassed to buy a decade or so earlier when he still acted like a stupid snickering teen about omega shit.

 _Emergency suppressors. Fever pills._ _Lube. Whatever omega aid they might have_.

He made his way over to the heat care aisle, brushing over the various products as he murmured their names and descriptions to himself. A couple foil packets of pills smacked the bottom of the shopping bag as Gladio tossed them in, grabbing an extra of each Ignis told him to get because damn, the kid looked messed up. Smelled messed up too.

See, Gladio had smelled a proper omega in heat. Ignis had too, though he’d die before admit to such _indiscretions_ in front of Noctis—for the sake of shame or decorum, whichever it was Gladio thought it was pretty stupid. There wasn’t anything shameful about properly catering to an omega during heat—honestly, it was one of the most noble and romantic things Gladio could think of.

And Prompto was gonna spend his locked up in a bathroom with a fake dick and some lube.

Said lube joined the packets and bottles in the bag. Ignis hadn’t specified any brand but Gladio picked one that apparently smelled like citrus, figuring Prompto might like it.

There were far less options when it came to omega aids. Gladio only had two to pick from—average, or gigantic—and though his alpha ego pressed him to grab the latter, he picked up the box of the smaller model and turned it over in his hand.

The packaging was clinical and dull, the image of the aid displayed on the front tiny and low-res and an unappealing shade of beige. Gladio scowled, pressing a finger into the flimsy cardboard so hard it dented.

He hated how things had gone this wrong this quickly.

Just yesterday he was needling Noctis about his way-too-obvious feelings for Prompto that everyone but the blond in question could see as clear as the the beard on Ramuh. The way Noctis had practically snatched the tent supplies from poor Prompto’s hands definitely had Gladio’s eyebrows raising at his prince’s obvious attempts to both show him up and impress his crush. Too bad Prompto had looked more confused than flushed with desire. For a prince, Noctis sure had a lot to work on in that whole “charming” department.

But Gladio hadn’t been ready to let Noctis totally screw up just yet.

Once he’d seen Prompto wander off in the direction of the meadow, Gladio had poked and prodded Noctis until _finally_ the other alpha had conceded the rest of the tent setup to him and gone to follow the blond. He’d only interrupted their little date when Ignis had insisted they eat before dinner grew cold, and by the looks on both of their faces when they came trotting back, Gladio had labeled it a success even before he’d flashed Noctis a thumbs up and a wink when Prompto had been busy burying his face in his food.

At the time, Gladio had thought maybe things could resolved themselves nice and easy—Noct’d finally get out all those feelings Gladio got a whiff of every time he got within a couple inches of the other kid and stop tormenting both he and Ignis with that godsdamn _pining_ scent and maybe by some hormonal magic Prompto’s body would figure out just what the hell it wanted so Gladio would stop feeling that constant blindspot where he was concerned. Noct and Iggy, he had a read on—he always knew what they wanted and where they were without so much as a sniff to the wind and an instinctual tickle, but Prompto—

Gladio dragged a hand down his face, leaving it to rest against his chin as he looked down to the box still in his hand.

Presentation wasn’t supposed to be so confusing and _violent_. It felt wrong. Just like buying the damn beige omega aid in its bland packaging felt wrong.

Gladio chucked it into the bag and counted the gil out of his pocket anyway. And if the shaky beta clerk tried to make idle conversation, he didn’t end up hearing him.

* * *

It’s coming again.

He can feel the heat creeping back up within him, squeezing out from his core with every pump of his heart. It’s like a headache, throbbing in and out of severity, and as he feels his insides again clench and sweat again bead on his skin, he knows he’s headed back out of the comforting belly of unconsciousness and back towards the peak of searing, unbearable need.

He sees little when he opens his eyes except for warm light bathing him in fuzzy heat. He can feel movement around him, and the soft touch of fabric against his body shifts, sending little strikes of pleasure into him as his loins wind back up with the horrible resurgence of untouched lust. He feels it building, trying to push out of him, trying to make him explode.

Something strong and warm suddenly wraps around him and his foolish heart leaps in hope as it had over and over again, hope that someone will finally help him out of this hell. He clings to it as tight as he can manage, trying to find the words to convince it to stay. 

Someone’s voice is loud and angry. Another’s lower, firm. He feels there should be one more, but there’s only silence.

The warm light around him fades away and chills run up and down his spine as darkness bathes all around him. He tries to move, to get away, but his arms and legs are limp and don’t want to listen to him.

No one does.

He whimpers as he feels something hard and cold beneath him. The secure arms around him suddenly leaves, gouging out another piece of his chest at a betrayal he’ll fall for again and again.

As he sits on the chilling ground objects he doesn’t understand are placed in front of him, and though the lower voice from before tries to command his attention he shakes his head and tries to reach out, only to grab nothing but air.

He looks up to see blurry shadows blocking out most of the remaining light above him, faces and bodies indistinct, voices now distant and fused together. He clutches his hands around himself, tries to sit up on his knees, voice trying to work around the whines and moans choking up his throat as he tries to beg them not to leave, please, _please_ , he’s good enough, he’ll do whatever they want just please, _please_ , don’t leave him alone—

The door swings shut behind him and locks him in the dark, with only the humidity of his own scent to keep him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that ending...thing's will get (kind of) better soon, promise! 
> 
> Comments and feedback give me life!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think of this story so far! Comments help me especially when I'm writing for new characters.


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